The Soul of the Creation
by Ryuko-chan
Summary: Chapter 3 Up! FINAL CHAPTER!!! Also updates of all chapter names. Dilandau is shocked into his memories by a taste of the worst part of his past. Will a blind quest for vengance claim Dilandau's young life, or will a mother's love save him again?
1. His Soul

The Soul of the Creation

His Soul

                The last thing… the last thing he remembered was that voice. It was a kind voice. His name was Jajuka, and they had only just met… But if that was true, then why did he remember that kind voice, as if from a long distant past? But no matter… That was the last thing he remembered. He had seen… as if from a long way away, through a tunnel, a little girl. He had seen her before. He had tried to forget her, forget even that she existed. It was terrible, to be her. Lonely. He saw her, and then he heard Jajuka's voice, from far away, shouting.

                "It's all right, Lord Dilandau! It's all right to go back to being Celena! That kind, gentle, Celena." 

                "Jajuka…" He had said, and he saw her. A little girl, only five, alone, afraid. Jajuka was kind to her. Jajuka was her friend, her protector. 

                He didn't understand. He had heard that name before, when he started to know where he was again. He had lost himself, he had fallen away in shock from his body. It seemed he had been away for a long time. And when he awoke, he was kneeling before a grave. There was someone behind him, no, two people… One asked him, asked a stranger, asked Celena if they were all right. Celena? Who is Celena? 

                Jajuka had saved him. Jajuka had been a stranger, but was quickly his ally. He was alone without Shesta, Gatty, Dallet, Viole. There was no one. No one! He was alone, and then Jajuka came. He had been alone, but then there was Jajuka. He was lonely, and Jajuka came to save him… He was.. He was… 

                "Jajuka…" he pleaded, "don't leave me alone…" but then… There was a shock, he gasped out for air. A fit came over him, and he couldn't see any longer. And then… He wasn't there anymore, he was drifting in a pleasant pool. Water seemed to lap against him, it was a soothing feeling.

                There was a voice, "Who are you?" it was a kind voice.

                He was brought out of his reverie. He sat up, "Di-Dilandau.." he said, his voice cracking with panic. He tried to cover his face with his hands, but neither belonged to him anymore.

                "Is that what they called you?" she asked. 

                "Y-yes." he said, and he was as a child, cowed, a small presence in what was now her mind. He had never been a child before, it was disconcerting, "Who are you?"

                "You only understand fear and anger…" she observed, ignoring his question.

                He smiled bitterly, "Boys will be boys." he said, a trace of the old poison in his voice.

                "They never taught you anything else." Her voice was quiet, pensive. It seemed to him that despite her kindness, the voice was no longer innocent. 

                He was aware of her scrutiny. For a moment, her mind sifted through all his crimes. Death, death, death, death… "You saw… it all, didn't you?" He asked, quivering. He hated it, he hated feeling weak like this.

                "I did." There was no pity in her voice, merely a soft matter-of-factness.

                He was abruptly ashamed. 

                "But soon, you will see… You will understand." The voice seemed to smile benevolently, "You are not to blame…"

                He was confused, "How can you say that?" It was as if he had worked his whole life for the right to no one's forgiveness, and she mocked him with acceptance and mercy. 

                "Shhh…" she said, and he was abruptly sleeping. He bathed in slumber, steeping in kindness. 

                His face changed, his voice changed… He was different, but he was the same. Her power had taken over his body, no, taken back her body.

                He dreamed. He was in her place. She must have merely slept, all those years. Dreaming within Dilandau, seeing what he had done

                She was seeing the battle. The movements. There was a Guymelef protecting her. The man, the man within… She knew who he was. He was… "Brother…" she said, her eyes filling with tears. 

                And then, (it was like a dream, it was a dream, the time moved quickly, strangely) she was in his arms, smiling. "I missed you, brother."

                "I'll never leave you alone again." said Allen Schezar, pulling her close. 

                Dilandau had always hated Schezar. He hated him, though he didn't know why. Allen had left him alone. He had been a source of agitation to Dilandau, a thorn in his side. But more than that was the emptiness, the bitterness that he had subconsciously associated with Allen. They were the feelings that he understood. 

                And then he was at home, in Allen's home. 

                "…Jajuka." Celena was saying. The name of his last ally had brought him to the surface again, "He was the only one who cared. And then I was taken away."

                "I wish I could have saved you from all of this…" Allen said ruefully.

                She smiled, "No, dear brother. I learned many things from my experience. I was given a taste of the other side." She paused, gathering her thoughts once more, "After they took me away…It was terrible…I remember bright lights, and blank faces, and then only little things. Little pieces… I remember… growing up with a group of boys… Gatty, Shesta..." She trailed off, conscious of Dilandau's thoughts under the surface of her mind.

                They were his heart. He woke first at ten. It was many years before the Magicians could finally get the calculations right. He had been the only one who had been a success. His eyes opened, and he blinked dully, trying to clear the lingering blurring from his vision. He was in a chamber, a darkened chamber filled with boys his own age. They were looking at him.

                "Lord Dilandau…" they said. Their eyes were afraid.

                He didn't question his birth. He just came to be, quickly and effectively. 

                "I am…?" he asked them, dazed. 

                "You are Lord Dilandau, our commander, sir." and he was. 

                "And you are…" he asked them, staring out at them.

                "Shesta, sir." the boy said respectfully.

                "I'm Viole!" called another, frightened but excited.

                "Miguel!" 

                "Dallet!" 

                "Gatty, sir!" There were more, back then, many more. They were his heart. He hated his heart. They were told, he was a furious terror. That he was a soldier who tolerated no failure from his underlings. And so he was. It wasn't difficult to learn to be a tyrant. His soldiers expected it. But they weren't soldiers quite yet. They were guerrillas at first, silent children crawling the underbrush. Killing became easy. He felt warm blood on his hands for the first time. It was… indescribable.

                Celena winced. 

                Allen had politely ignored her silence. He changed the subject, "Folken told me that Dilandau… That… you came from the magicians." He looked down at his hands momentarily, then up at her.

                "I think so… I don't know what they were called." She said. She thought for a moment, calling memories up from her dreams, "I remember… I remember a castle, burning. I remember you, brother. And I remember… I tried to kill you." 

                Allen was silent for a long time, his face reflecting his feelings, "You've lived inside him, sister." he said, his face disquieted, "But I wonder, where is the person who was once Dilandau, and will he ever come back?" 

                Celena stayed wisely silent, and Dilandau, in his dreams, felt her gaze turn within, to him. 

                He… They… were elsewhere then. A field of white graves. He had been there, when he woke back up after the battle. She was kneeling at the same grave.

                "Mother…" she said, her eyes filling with tears. 

                "You were here before.." Allen said, "When he first came back." 

                "Oh… I only vaguely remember. It was strange then, everything was in a fog. My mind wasn't there, it was inside me." She said, gazing at the white cross, "That wasn't the first time. I remember a moment of sickness, a pain and sadness. Dilandau…" she smiled, but she was smiling at the young man inside her, "wasn't taught how to cope with grief."

                Allen frowned, but then thought of the Dragonslayers' grisly deaths, and understood.

                "Yes, and then I can remember flowers… And I think… Jajuka was there." She closed her eyes.

                Dilandau realized with a shock that he remembered that time, too. He was confused, panicked. He tried to come back out, he tried to return, struggling like a dumb beast against his bonds. He made the Celena that was do strange things. But he couldn't succeed without the help of the magicians. He had been disoriented, confused. Dead. They were dead. 

                They had been with him forever. His entire life, surrounded by these boys. The shadows in the night. Before Zaibach started their campaign against the world, legends were passed in the lands where the boys hunted, legends of wolf-children, a pack leader with red eyes. They learned to hunt like a team, they learned to melee. The wildness taught them civilization, by way of the reports they brought back. They learned to report on everything, remember with meticulous detail. 

                And he learned to appreciate them, learned to befriend them, albeit in a twisted way. They looked upon him as an older brother, a hero. A commander.

                And then, they were given Guymelef suits. The freedom this brought was blessed. No more hiding in the shadows. The emperor gave them a name. Dragonslayers. 

                Allen gently touched Celena's shoulder. He had become used to her bouts of silent introspection.

                "It was my fault, wasn't it?" she asked abruptly, turning, her eyes filling with tears.

                "What was?" Allen asked, surprised.

                "Mother's death." 

                "No." Allen said, taking her into his arms, "Never." 

                There was a flash, and a pillar of light grew in the distance. They turned to look at it.

                Allen looked up, "Hitomi…" he said. 

                Celena was silent.

                Hitomi, yes… that was her name. That girl… Dilandau had hated her, furious with her for everything she had done to him through Van. The protection she gave Van, the feelings she had for him, and that scar. He hated her, he hated Van… Those were the emotions he could stand. She had damaged his delicate vanity, and his untouchable status. He had been proud of his beauty, obsessed with his almost girlish features. He hadn't understood at the time, but maybe now it made more sense. But that didn't make a difference anymore. His face did not belong to him anymore, the scar had faded.

                Celena idly put a hand to her cheek. 

                Then, Dilandau was in bed, staring out the window at the two moons above. Allen had told Celena that their world had come from the blue one, that Mystic Moon. He studied the strange landforms and oceans and the clouds that wrapped it like a blanket. 

                Celena turned within, interrupting his reverie, "Have you begun to understand?" she asked.

                He was petulant, "I don't understand…" he said, bitterly, "I only remember, and sleep." 

                "Of course you do." she said, smiling at him.

                "Why do you know things? Why do you understand so much… You've lived no longer than I did. We are half and half. Why don't you act six years old?" he asked.

                "Did you act fifteen, when you were me?" 

                He was silent.

                "You and I have been one. I learned from you, now you must learn from me." She explained slowly. It was as if she was speaking to a child.

                "Why don't you just let me die?" he turned away, "I can join my friends, and you can live alone for once." He shook within himself, almost afraid of her answer. He had never wanted to die.

                "How can one die who has never been alive?" she asked.

                Dilandau had no answer for that. 

                He slept yet again.

                Years passed, maybe many years. Dilandau was there, but he could not keep the time. He watched Celena grow, increasingly interested in the world around her. It became his goal to understand her. He tried to do so by watching the people around her, analyzing the way they treated her. There was not much else he could do. He was sometimes bored, but he was never alone. 

                Allen was often there, and Dilandau came to appreciate his company, somehow. He also came to appreciate Van, the man who had become his obsession, as a ruler and a human being. He began to see the good in people, he observed it as a strange quality about the eyes. He had known quiet people, he had known sad people, but he couldn't remember seeing the eyes of a person who had not killed. It was unnerving to change so much, in such a short time. He remembered the Dilandau who had been before, but he no longer understood him. 

                At times he resented it. During his awake times, he was often curt to Celena.

                "I don't know why you teach me these things…" he told her once, his voice as harsh as sandpaper, "I will never be able to put them to use, locked away inside you forever."

                Celena merely smiled in a self-satisfied way, "Perhaps. But I would like you to go to your reward understanding your crimes."

                "So you condemn me to hell." he had said flatly.

                "I try to save you from it." she corrected.

                "I don't know what you're talking about." He scoffed, turning his back on her voice.

                "Naturally." she said, directly at him. 

                At that point he was so angry that he surged inside her mind, attempting to force her out, but he had long since become too weak, and she too powerful for him to succeed. So he had merely sulkily turned his back on her and gone back to sleep.

                So his days went on, and though he tried to retain his old arrogance, that note of crazed panic that was often in his voice, his insane manic energy, he found himself unable to. He lost the last of his anger when Celena fell in love. 

                He was a stranger, but he became a friend, and then more. Dilandau was detached from her feeling, but he still felt the impact of it on him. It bothered him for more than one reason.

                "You've changed, haven't you Dilandau?" Celena asked him, awakening him one evening. She was reading a book in a chair by her bed. She spoke to the mirror on the vanity in front of her, but she was really talking to him.

                "No." said Dilandau sullenly, looking at her through her own eyes.

                "Of course you have. You didn't understand these feelings before. You had never experienced them." she said, marking her book and setting on the vanity. 

                "Tch. I had no use for them. I still don't." He said.

                "You're such a child." she said, smiling. 

                "So what if I am?" he said, his voice biting.

                She stayed silent, and brushed her hair in the vanity. Dilandau had not seen her face in a long time. She looked quite mature. He said nothing about it. He was still a child.

                There was a wedding. Celena and her beau were married, and not long after, he became a Knight Caeli, like her brother. 

                That was the last thing of clarity Dilandau saw. He tried to panic as he realized his time became less and less, and that his vision through her had clouded, but he was weary of dark feelings, and then he just let go, hoping that he would sleep forever. He didn't really want to.

                In the months after the wedding, Dilandau was asleep. He heard things, but he could no longer see, and he felt detached. Things drifted away from him. Memory, images, thought. He was merely drifting, hearing her heartbeats as he slumbered. He felt the person he was being filtered out, leaching away, but it was a welcome feeling, not a tragedy. All the wounds that would not heal drifted away, all the anger and loneliness he had felt in life fell away, leaves in Autumn. 

                When he woke, he didn't remember who he was. His vision was blurred. He heard voices, but he couldn't remember what they meant anymore. But it was cold…

                "Beautiful…" said a sobbing voice, "My son." Dilandau thought he had heard the voice before, but he could not think.

                There was a silence as well, its presence as audible as the cries of joy. What Dilandau had become did not see the amazement on the face of Allen Schezar, did not see the incredulous glances that passed from Allen to his sister, who was wan and sweating, but smiling, glowing as well. She could not speak quite yet, afraid she would sob with joy, but she merely let Allen see the measure of happiness in her face, and he did not speak.

                Dilandau, when he finally saw her, was overjoyed, though he could not yet express it. He tried in vain to reach his arms toward her. 

                "You are Dilandau, my son." said the new mother to her child. And he was.

                The years after that were like a dream to the boy, like the dreams he had had for countless years before. He loved flowers, he was amazed by Guymelefs, and he worshiped his Uncle Allen. He grew.

                He was five, "Uncle Allen, Uncle Van!" he ran ahead, dragging his mother along. 

                The two of them had long since come to terms with the fact that the child who called them his Uncles had the red eyes and white hair of a long-ago enemy. They were no longer alarmed at the sight of him, because they didn't see the lust for blood in his eyes. 

                Dilandau was excited, because his mother said she was going to show him something wonderful. He could almost stand it no longer, the joy was threatening to burst through his chest, and so he had to run. 

                Van was worried. Celena had asked him to come, she had told him it would be important to him, and to Allen. But as he began to recognize the surroundings, he became increasingly anxious. He sidled up to Allen.

                "Allen…" he said quietly.

                "I know…" Allen said, stolidly.

                "Aren't you worried about what might happen?" Van asked.

                Allen looked thoughtful, and then he smiled distantly, "Not really." 

                Van blinked, "Why not?" he asked, "Don't you think the shock might make her revert?"

                "For some reason," Allen said, "I can't think that this could all be coincidence." 

                Van was silent, thinking of a boy who could not be who he seemed. 

                But then, they were there, a wide plain that was a wasteland perhaps fifteen years ago, but now it was covered in beautiful flowers and grasses. Long ago, it was the site of a battle. The last battle of a terrible war. 

                As Allen and Van crested the hill, they sighted the place where they had fought that final battle. The ruins of a red Guymelef lay at the base of the hill, grown over with white flowers. Dilandau was climbing up the base of the Guymelef, his eyes filled with wonder. 

                Van ran down the hill, his chest filled with anxiety, "Celena…" he said, "Are you quite sure…" 

                Celena smiled at him, "Of course." She smiled up at Dilandau, who was standing at a vantage point on top of the Guymelef's wasted head. He looked around the valley, memorizing the lay of the land. But he found that he already recognized all that was around him. He wasn't really puzzled by this, it had happened to him all too often in his short life. 

                Celena smiled benevolently up at the voice within her that became her son. She waved Dilandau down from the Guymelef, and took him into her arms.

                She smiled at his sunny scent, the silver hair that grew wild over his face. His eyes shone expectantly at her. She stroked his cheek, once.

                "Dilandau, do you see that Melef?" She said, pointing to the custom red unit, its joints filled with grasses. It seemed to be a sleeping giant, unaware that he was being covered by vegetation.

                Dilandau, sensing that this was important, only nodded.

                Celena smiled a distant smile, "Long ago… This is where I began to love you…"

                Dilandau didn't quite understand what she meant, but the presence of a small voice within him urged him to do something strange. He took his mother's face in his hands and softly kissed her forehead. Then, in a low voice, he whispered, "Thank you…"

Author's note: I like Dilandau! I wrote this fic in the middle of the night, so I had to go back and rework it. Then I didn't like the ending, which wasn't about Dilandau, but Celena, so I rewrote it. Then I felt bad because it didn't seem well-rounded enough without the Dragonslayers coming back as well, but I thought that was silly, pointless, and unlikely. Maybe I'll write a chapter two, if I feel the urge. If you want me to, by all means tell me so. My addy is DragonGirl17@AOL.com. Flame me if you like, but do so knowing that I will probably just point and laugh at it. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Bye!


	2. His Eyes

The Soul of the Creation

His Eyes

                He was a very young boy. Perhaps ten or eleven, the flush of youth still upon him, his eyes still wide in innocence. However there was an air of wisdom that hovered about him, making it seem like he was not his true age. A strength was in his eyes, and he seemed not to be afraid of anything. 

                This unnatural air of agedness followed him around in a cloud about his head, personified by his stark, colorless hair. People were still shocked when he looked at them with those deep red eyes, perhaps thinking in a split-second moment of judgment that he was a demonic creature. But his eyes were gentle, not cruel, they smiled and so, most were not afraid to look him in the face.  

                Allen Schezar,  former knight of Caeli and now advisor to the king of Asturia, was walking hand in hand with this young boy, observing him with a small smile as the boy regally surveyed the bazaar around him. He had, of course, been there many times before, but he paid close attention each time, as if he was afraid he would miss something. 

                He stopped at a counter, studying it intently, "Uncle Allen.." he said, in a voice which was clear but still high, a child's voice.

                "Yes, Nephew Dilandau…" replied Allen with a small smile. 

                "Why does this seem to me to be so familiar?" he said, innocently holding up a very familiar forehead guard. It was brass, set with a purple stone in the center, and once worn by the young man very similar to this boy, many years before. The shopkeeper had pulled it from the ashes of a battle some years ago, and it was very battered from the many years it spent in the field. 

                Allen blanched, his stomach dropping. He had long since realized that this Dilandau carried some of the memories of the former one. It was written in the way he spoke, the way he moved, the way his eyes often seemed so knowing. Also, in the way he looked into a flame. That was quite telling indeed. But despite all that, he still didn't know what to say when confronted with it face to face.  

                "Ah!" a woman's voice called from behind them, "Dilandau, that's a relic from our past!" Celena called, running up to them with a smile, "You and I wore that headband when we were together, but we left all of that behind us long ago, remember?"

                "I do, mother." Dilandau said, and as if that explanation was enough for him, he set the jewelry down, and turned to smile at his mother. If anyone had any doubts about the young man, those would have melted away in sight of the strength of love that his eyes held for his mother. This love was mirrored in her own. They turned in unison and hand in hand walked down the centre of the bazaar.

                Allen was, as usual, dumbfounded. Young Dilandau was a source of some anxiety to him. Allen often wondered whether he wouldn't remember his past life and go back to madness, robbing Celena, his dear sister, of her most precious love. Allen's thoughts were largely kept at bay by the fact that it seemed that Celena never worried about things like that. Allen wondered how much more the both of them knew than him, and was disquieted. Things like that bothered him much more since he had become the King's advisor. But he followed anyway, keeping his worries to himself.

                The bazaar opened up into a wide square, and recently performers had begun to gather more thickly here, probably due to the fact that the circuses were out of season. Most circus performers migrated to their homelands at this time, though it would not be too long before it would be too cold to perform outdoors in Asturia.  The many performers shouted and waved their hands about and encouraged people to put money into their hat, or instrument case, or can, or whatever they happened to have. 

                Dilandau's face bloomed into a sweet smile, and he looked up at his mother.

                She nodded, and he ran off of her arm, leaving it to flutter back to her side. 

                Allen was baffled anew each time he saw the way they spoke without words. It had been too long since he had seen them together, and now the strange pact between them was starting to discomfit him. He tried once more to put his fears to rest, "Celena…" he began uneasily.

                Celena smiled again, knowing what that tone meant with her brother, "You'd think you'd be used to it by now, brother." she said, turning to face him.

                Allen frowned, "It's my job to be wary…" he said, "I just want to know what you've told him. How much you've told him…"

                Celena leveled a clear gaze at her brother, warning him, "I told him as much as he needed to know." she said, her voice full of import.

                Allen sighed, and turned away. His sister had that knack of making people feel guilty, most especially when it came to this most secret of secrets. 

                There was a sudden bustle from the performer's square. A shatter of pottery, a shout, and then…

                A scream, "DEMON! DEMON! GET AWAY, DEMON!!" 

                Celena's eyes focused intently, and she ran forward. She burst through the crowd with a mother's fury and singleness of mind. The crowd parted silently, perhaps feeling the cloud of mother's anger and fear gathering at their backs, turning guiltily away as many of them had done in their own childhoods.

                Allen, following behind her a few steps, came out into the open where he saw a woman of about fifty or sixty, screaming, crying, pointing an accusing finger at… Dilandau.

                Dilandau was holding a poisonous snake in his hands, one hand behind the wedge-shaped head, and another keeping the coils at bay. There were shards of pot on the ground, and though most of the crowd had noticed the snake, the screaming woman held their attention. The snake, though dangerous, was not as dynamic as the panicked elderly woman, and entertainment must be dynamic.

                "DEMON! DEMON!" she shouted, and she coughed, her voice failing. 

                There was a younger woman at her side, holding her arms, "Mother, shh… Be quiet.." she intoned into the other woman's ear. 

                But she was not listening, "You…" she said hoarsely, "You were the demon that killed my husband…" 

                Dilandau's eyes widened, and, much to the horror of the crowd, he dropped the snake. Thinking quickly, a sword juggler leapt forward and sliced off the reptile's beaded head. The head made an intense hissing, and the coils leapt about in their death throes and soon lay still. The crowd was relieved, but the show wasn't over yet. 

                "You must remember…" the voice was bitter, poison, "It was twenty-five years ago…" the woman wheezed, the veins standing out on her forehead. Her daughter was unable to say a word.

                "The garden needed tending, so he was out there… I had told him to. And then there were children in the house, as if they came from nowhere. So many children, staring at me with dead eyes. I heard a scream, and saw my husband fall. There was a boy with blood eyes and silver hair. A demon… and that was you." her hatred bled through with the word 'you', and Dilandau's face looked crushed.

                Allen searched the crowd for Celena. Surely she would have been able to get there in time to stop this. She was standing, dumbstruck, at the edge of the crowd. Her face was white, her eyes glazed, as if she was seeing her world begin to crumble. 

                "Then the house was burning. Fire, fire fire… And you laughed. You LAUGHED!" she sobbed. 

                The daughter regained her sense, "Mother, mother what are you talking about, this boy is much too young to have been that one… Shh.. Shh, just settle down." 

                The woman's sobbing ended, and her body went limp. She had passed out. 

                After a few moments the crowd decided collectively that this was no longer entertaining, and began to mill about the courtyard. Music started once again as the performers began their shows, unaware of the magnitude of the act that they were following.

                Allen ran forward, having lost sight of Dilandau and Celena in the crowd. He fought through the people to the middle of the square, where he found them, a clear island in the sea of people.

                Dilandau was staring, staring intently at the dead snake. Its blood had sprayed in a wide fan around its head and body, meandering about it in a twisted path. The head and coils still twitched, giving it a sick semblance of life, though its teeth were bared in a glassy-eyed grimace and its body tied in rigorous knots.

                Celena was staring fatalistically at Dilandau. Her eyes were a cloudy day when no ray of sunshine seemed to be able to show its face. Yet afraid, she extended a hand slowly towards him, but was interrupted by…

                "Mother." Said Dilandau softly.

                She stopped her hand, curling her fingers nervously, "Yes?" she asked.

                "Is that beautiful?" he asked, turning those wide eyes up to his mother, "Something within me seems to think that it is." 

                Celena's eyes filled with tears, and she reached out her hand and drew her boy in towards her, "I don't know, my son. I don't know." 

                Allen, disconcerted by this train of conversation, put a hand on Dilandau's shoulder, "Come on, Dilandau, get away from there. Those things can bite even after they're dead." 

                Dilandau turned his head slowly towards Allen, and with a shock of adrenaline, Allen saw something fearful in his eyes. The boy gave him a long, cold look, and then followed.

                Celena returned to her room in the castle. She drifted from one side of the room to the other, thinking feverishly. It wasn't long before the tears started.

                She remembered the first time her son had asked about his past. 

                _"Mother?" _He had said, _"Mother, why does this mean something to me?"_ He was five, and she had taken him to see the red Guymelef, that sleeping giant. He asked her that, back then when he still spoke so innocently.

                Celena had smiled distantly, _"This was where you and I met, many years ago…"_ She had decided long before how she would explain this to him when the time came, _"You see, when Mother was young, you came to be inside of me. But it was not yet time for you to be born, and for a long time, you and I lived in the same body. You came to be in control of that body, and you grew up for a time, inside me. You were me. Then, years ago, when this red Melef fell, you remembered that this was not your body, and I regained control. That was the life of our past together." _It was perhaps not the whole truth, but it was what she was prepared to tell him at the time. 

Dilandau, being only five, had not understood, _"So, I was Mommy?" _he had asked, confused. 

                _"For a little while, yes. So, if you see something that you recognize, or know a place, or understand some words that you never learned, ask me and I'll tell you about it."_ Celena said.

                Dilandau understood that, and it seemed to take a weight off his young shoulders to know that he wouldn't have to be daunted by confusion any more in his life. His mother would explain things for him, if he thought they needed an explanation. _"OK, mommy, I'll ask you."_ he had said, smiling.

                For the years since then, every so often, sometimes every day, Dilandau would come up with a new something for her to explain to him. Sometimes it was a story.

                _"Mother, I saw in my dream many boys my age. They were nice to me, but I think they were afraid of me. They told me who I am, and then we were together. I think they were my friends!"_ Yes, Celena remembered that. She saw that story played out many times in the intervening time, between Her own rebirth and Dilandau's. 

                He had grown, and it seemed he had remembered quite a few things from his past. Places, names, stories, even a mode of speech. (which she had mostly discouraged him from using…) He grew to be a quiet, introspective young boy, still prone to bouts of giddy joy for no other reason than the fact that he was alive.  

                It seemed to have been her luck so far that Dilandau had not remembered any of the violent things, any of the sad things. But that woman's tale… It was probably true, and what if it tripped a switch somewhere in the young boy's mind? Soon, and perhaps sooner, Dilandau would realize what his former self had done, and then… what?

                Celena collapsed to the bed. She did not want to have to tell the son she had loved so much, loved even long before he was born, that he had been a murderer. 

                Turning these thoughts over in her head, Celena fought the urge to cry. She would think hard about it, think of what she could say to her son when he finally asked that fateful question, _"Mother, when I was You... What kind of person was I?"_ She thought to herself the truth, _"A broken one,"_ but knew she could not give her son such an answer. 

                Without her having paid attention to it, the sun had slipped below the horizon, and though she wished that she could stay awake, she slipped into sleep.

                In the next room over, Dilandau had not slept. The door opened, and he sat up, "Who is it?" he asked.

                "It is I, Eries." said the princess. She had aged, her regal countenance becoming even more formidable, but she retained the softness of youth in her eyes. 

                "Hello, Princess Eries…" Dilandau said respectfully.

                She smiled warmly, "You don't have to be so formal with me, young Dilandau! You can still call me Aunt Eries…" she said, "You were never so formal, once upon a time…"

                "Mother told me that it was bad to talk rude to people…" he said, sniffling a bit.

                "Not very rudely, of course! Why would she tell you that?" Eries asked, curious. She had long since known the secret that this boy carried somewhere within him. She remembered the face of that boy who appeared from the vestiges of Celena, that dumb creature Allen had taken to see their mother's grave. She was one of the few who knew.

                Allen and Celena had decided together that it was in the best interest of Celena, and later Dilandau, to keep the secret of what the Sorcerers had done to Celena quiet, so it was only privy to those who had seen Dilandau's face. There were very few who had done so and lived. 

                "I found some words inside me that my mother told me were rude." Dilandau explained, "I couldn't tell anymore which were the words I learned and which were the ones I found, so I decided to just be very polite to everybody." 

                "Well, it's good to be polite, but don't your friends think it's 'weird'?" Eries asked, laughing. 

                Dilandau looked blankly at her, "I don't know." he said, "I have friends, but they don't really understand me." 

                Eries blinked, "How so?" 

                Dilandau shrugged, "They don't think about the same things that I do." 

                There was a pause as Eries digested that, knowing that there was no reason for her to have ever expected otherwise.

                Dilandau turned his attention to the candle by his bedside. He watched it for a few moments, the firelight giving his eyes a strange light behind them. It sent a small shiver through Eries' soul. 

                He broke away, "No, no, no…" he whispered, closing his eyes and covering them with his fists.

                "What?" Eries asked, forcing her voice to be filled with a sympathy she was almost too shaken to feel. What was that strange look in the young boy's eyes?

                "My mommy told me that fire hurts people." Dilandau said, looking down at his hands, "That I shouldn't touch fire, and I shouldn't let anyone else touch it…" there was a pause, "And I don't want to hurt people." 

                Eries' heart skipped a beat, "Dilandau… You don't have to hurt anyone." she said, her voice desperate.

                "They told me to hurt people." He replied.

                Eries was riveted, "Who?" she whispered tentatively.

                There was a long silence, and then Dilandau looked shyly up at her, "No-no one did, Aunt Eries…" 

                Eries was not convinced, but she realized that perhaps Dilandau was trying not to make her worry. She resolved to speak to Celena later, and then smiled hesitantly, "Well…" she said, her voice shaky, "if you say so, then I won't ask any more." she smiled, "It's getting quite late, perhaps you'd like to go to sleep now?" 

                Dilandau nodded, "But, do you think you could leave my door open?" he said softly, "The torchlight makes me feel better." 

                Eries smiled, glad to see that Dilandau was the same child she had known, and not the stranger she had seen on the bed a moment ago, "Of course I shall." Eries said, rising with a shallow bow. 

                She quit the room with a feeling of indescribable sadness and confusion. She had hoped that the past would not interfere with the present, that the things that happened to Allen's family could be repaired, but… She sighed, pained by her inability to do anything about the strange terror that haunted this family's legacy. It seemed that if there was something horrible, painful, or terrifying that had to happen to someone, it was the Schezar family. She descended the staircase with a heavy feeling in her heart. The future would not be kind to Dilandau, either.

                Dilandau was trying to fall into sleep, concentrating all of his mind upon the firelight playing across the stone floor. Fire had always calmed him. The silent terrors he remembered only in nightmares always came in the darkness, or under a steady light that did not flicker. Fire was the healthy in-between. There was darkness in fire as well as light. Dilandau was wondering idly whether there was darkness as well as light within him when he dropped into a warm sleep. 

_                "Lord Dilandau?" _A voice asked him. 

                He was dreaming, he knew that much, yet still he answered, "Shesta?" his voice asked in a poisonous tone.

                The boy was shaking, but still he went on, "What are we doing here?" 

                "We are practicing quick deployment." Dilandau replied, straightening. He surveyed the area. A small straw thatched hut stood in a clearing about a hundred meters away. His soldiers stared apprehensively at him, some of their eyes bleary with sleep. He had dragged them out of bed late in the night, pleased at the way they responded, even half asleep, to his orders. But why had he done this? 

                Dilandau sneered, "Our last two practices were beneath my expectations." he said coldly, "I want you to deploy around and inside that complex," he pointed to the hut, "in less than one minute."

                "But sir!" shouted one of the soldiers.

                Almost without his volition, Dilandau's hand shot out and struck the face of the young man. Dilandau felt the pleasure within him well up at the silent nod the reprimanded soldier gave him. 

                "Since there are no objections…" Dilandau said, his voice a clear warning against anything of the sort, "You will go at my signal," His face twisted, "Go!" he shouted.

                The young men-No, they were boys. Boys only ten or eleven, like Dilandau himself, but they stood taller, ran faster than other boys… They were soldiers. They were HIS soldiers-These boys ran towards the hut at breakneck speed, and were inside it without warning. There was a muffled gasp from within.

                Dilandau set himself into motion. He shot into the yard of the house, straight into… A man! He was there, looking Dilandau straight in the face, seeing him, the Zaibach uniform. Zaibach's secret war would be uncovered! Then… Dilandau would be punished. 

                Without thought, he plunged his dagger into the man's chest, a lightning shot. The man screamed. His blood ran over Dilandau's small hands. The man fell in the garden, and Dilandau's dagger shot out of his chest, guided by the bloody hands. 

                He stared at his hands. The pure red… That color, the scent. Dilandau's mind coursed with indescribable feelings. And then… 

                He gagged, he bent over, his face inches from the just tilled soil, but all he could smell was the blood. His eyes filled with tears. 

                "No…" he said, "I…" His stomach began to cramp, a terrible pain gathered in the small of his back. He reached inside himself for something that he could not quite touch, and then…

                "Lord Dilandau!" called a voice from the distance, sharply and with a note of panic.

                "What?" Dilandau said, snapped away from… what? He did not know, all he knew was that he was filled with rage and fear. 

                "Lord Dilandau…" the boys chorused when they saw the blood upon his hands.

                Dilandau's crimson eyes narrowed, and he turned the gaze of a caged animal on his soldiers. "Burn it all…" he said in a soft voice, "Burn it to the ground…"

                "What?" the soldiers chorused, dumbfounded.

                "BURN IT! BURN IT!" he screamed. He wasn't thinking, he took the lantern that had been lighting the gardener's patch of dirt, and heaved it with all of his fury at the wall of the house. The hut was blazing in mere seconds.

                The soldiers were reduced to a playground of panicked children. They poured out of the house in great stumbling waves… 

                One or two were missing, but Dilandau didn't notice. His eyes had taken on  a dull cast, and none of his soldiers dared speak to him. The dagger continued to drip the scent of blood along the path behind them, the path before them. There was blood everywhere, it was covering him in darkness! 

                Dilandau shrieked in terror and sat up in bed, his eyes blinded by blood. But… no… It faded. There was no blood, merely his bed in Palas, firelight on the cobblestones of the floor, and his mother. She was sitting by his bedside, looking sadly at him, smiling weakly.

                "Mother!" he shouted, "It was the most terrible thing! There was blood and fire and death!" he grabbed onto her like a drowning man clawing for the surface, "And it was me! It WAS me! I did it!" he dissolved into childish sobs and melted down. 

                Celena had seen the blood and fear in her own dreams. She stared ahead and brought dainty fingers to her son's back, "You will see much more like it in the future, my dear, dear son." she said, her voice close to a sob, "Your dreams will show you the sins of your past."

                He looked up at her, "Why did I do them, mother?" he asked, his pale face sharply outlined with red, "Why did I do those sins?" 

                Celena looked up, trying to think of a way to explain things to him, "It wasn't your fault…" she said, "Long ago, everything was different. You were a soldier…" she sensed his confusion, "those are people who are paid to kill for a cause." she finished, looking down at him apprehensively.

                He thought, his eyes wet, "Does that make it OK?" he asked, conflicted, both hoping that it was and hoping that it was not. 

                Celena shook her head, "It's a difficult matter, my Dilandau… Killing on the battlefield is certainly not the same as killing indiscriminately." 

                He clenched his fists, "But in that dream, I didn't kill him because he was my enemy, I killed him because…" he trailed off, unable to put the complex emotions into words.

                "You killed him-" Celena said, "to protect the interests of your country. To protect yourself. That does not make it right, but…" she trailed off,  "Dilandau, there are some things in life which we wish we had not done." her voice took on an importance it had previously not had, "And that is the point. Killing is only truly evil if there is no remorse, no guilt for the crime. Did you feel bad when you killed that man?" she asked him, and though she knew the answer, there was still a thrill of fear.

                Dilandau's eyes threatened tears once more, "Yes…" he said, staring at his hands as if he could still see the blood upon them.

                "Because you felt remorse, you were forgiven." she paused, "As time goes on, you will find that in your dreams, that feeling will diminish, it will become smaller and smaller." She frowned painfully, "This is because you nearly stopped caring." 

                Dilandau's eyes were alight with fear.

                "But still a seed of guilt remained, or you would have never come to me like this, my son. You must remember always that the sins of your past life do not belong to you anymore. You were given this second chance at life, and so you must make good use of it." she said, "And this time, you are in control of your own destiny."             

                Dilandau calmed down, "Who gave me this second chance?" 

                Celena's eyes shone brightly through her matte face, "I did, my son. I would do it a thousand times over, and I knew and still know everything that your other self has done." Tears began to stream down her face, and she put her hands before it like a curtain, "Oh… Oh…" she chanted.

                Dilandau's face was pensive, so thoughtful that it seemed perhaps his spirit had receded from his eyes, into his mind, and into his thoughts. He stayed like that for a moment, and then he frowned, and blinked repeatedly, as if calling the errant soul back from the depths of his mind. 

                Then, he slipped down off his bed, and put his arms around his mother, "I'm sorry, mother." he said, "I'm sorry I made you cry." 

                Celena put her arms around her son, and smiled through her tears, "No, it's not your fault…" she said, "It'll be all right… It'll be all right." She looked into his face. 

                With a shock of surprise, Celena realized that something had hardened in Dilandau's innocent eyes. They had steeled beneath the surface, so that though they still sparkled with the vitality of youth, there was a dark wall behind them. 

                She cradled his face in her hand, rubbing his cheek gently with her thumb, "We still have a long way to go, my beloved son…" she said, repressing a sob. 

                He clutched her robe with his small hands, and shook for a moment. Then, slowly and sharply, he nodded.

                The next day was bright and cool. Dilandau woke early, taking care not to wake his weary mother, who had fallen asleep on the chair beside his bed. He walked in bare feet through the cool hallways of the castle, staring at the floor beneath the window. The light shone dimly upon the stone floor. Winter was coming. Dilandau was thinking about this, and not paying much attention to where he was going, when he was stopped by a strong arm. He looked up to see Van, the king of Fanelia, dressed simply in a tunic and some breeches. 

                Van smiled, "Hello, young Dilandau. You're up early." he said, unselfconsciously ruffling his dark hair.

                Dilandau looked up at him for a moment with a lost expression on his face. 

                Van was taken aback. The tender innocence he had last seen in Dilandau's eyes was marred by a strange cloud, "Dilandau?" 

                Dilandau frowned, a shadow of a bitter expression rolling across his face, "Van.." he said faintly, with the hint of his hatred from years past. 

                The impact of that faint utterance was a wave of adrenaline washing over Van's heart, "Are you all right?" he asked. 

                Dilandau stared up at him imperturbably, a frown coalescing on his brow.

                There was a noise, "Lord Van?" called a voice. Merle climbed the stairs with a sedate walk that she did not have in her younger years. 

                "Uh, yes, Merle?" Van said, not taking his eyes off Dilandau.

                "You need to get ready for your audience with King Dryden." Merle said, her tail twitching momentarily at the look on Van's face, "Is something wrong?" she asked, tilting her head.

                Van looked at her, "Ah, no. It's all right, I'll be right down." he said. 

                Merle nodded, and descended the staircase.

                Dilandau blinked for a few moments, and then looked at Van as if he was seeing him for the first time, "Oh, I'm sorry for my rudeness King Van…" he said with a bow, "I was thinking about something." 

                Van's brow creased, and he looked away for a moment, "That's all right, Dilandau." he said, looking back at the boy, "Will I see you later on? I plan on doing some sparring in the courtyard with the soldiers." he rotated his shoulder, "I guess I'm getting stiff, having to be the king all the time." he said with a grin.

                Dilandau smirked, "Maybe I'll challenge you, Van.." he said darkly, and without another word, he walked away, leaving Van to stare after him with a haunted and shocked expression on his face.

Author's note: Oooh, no real ending! I plan on writing one more chapter of this, with a happy ending. So yay! It took me forever to finish this, because I lost my muse and kept writing crap.. I totally forgot that Eries had been there when Allen found out his sister was Dilandau, so obviously she would have known about the whole business, but I had written the entire Eries scene before I realized that. I didn't have to change too much, say something if you think it's choppy. 

                The hardest part was writing Dilandau at 11 years old. I have an eleven year old sister, and I couldn't mesh his character with anything she does. I suppose she's a girl and that does make a difference. I felt like I was either writing him too old or too young. I admit, I love the idea of a cute, five-year-old Dilandau, so I sort of clung to that…

                The part about this story I like best is the bond between Celena and Dilandau. We see that breaking a little bit here… 

                I want to give special thanks to all my kind reviewers for their moral support while my Laptop was in the hospital. It has returned, huzzah, which is why you're reading this fic. Special thanks, although not individual ones (too lazy) go out to Another Cat Girl, Geniusgirl, dilanda, Sadie Joyce – Myst Lady, Feye Morgan, Hitomi-no-Hikari, Macky, and Izzy. That's all the people who reviewed, thanks all of you guys, for forcing me to write some mo! I promise the next chapter will be better.

                On a side note: Yeah, I like Dryden, and I think he'd make a much better king than Allen, or whoever else may want to be king. Sure, Millerna's OK, but she just doesn't have the skill at talking to people that Dryden does. He even won me over, and he's not even real! Also, Dilandau's father is off doing some sort of treaty stuff… I just don't feel like writing a believable OC right now.. Plus, I couldn't think of a name. But if I hadn't been so lazy, the Celena talking to herself alone scene would have been Celena talking to her husband. So lazy….


	3. His Face

The Soul of the Creation

His Face

                The sun was abnormally bright. Dilandau, personally, disliked the sun. He avoided it altogether whenever possible, because of the way it blinded him, the way it burned his skin. He preferred dark, enclosed areas, places where nothing could hurt him. 

                Dilandau shut the curtains, bathing the room in convenient shadow. He had grown tall, perhaps not quite as tall as he could have imagined, but as tall as his other self had once been. That was many years ago. And now, his eyes, his face, the cut of his hair; by now it was all the same as his other self's once had been. He was the same age, 15, as his other self when he… 

                Disappeared? Perhaps. Dilandau didn't know. As of yet, his memory hadn't completely returned to him. He continued to remember snippets, little stories, but they had yet to form into a cohesive whole. That had begun to annoy him, but he tried hard not to let his annoyance get to the people around him. Possibly he hadn't tried hard enough, though.

                "Dilandau?" called a voice from outside his room. There was little privacy in this small house, but he enjoyed it here. He had never much liked being alone. 

                "Yes, Mother?" he answered back, and his voice was the same as it had been when he had tried to kill Van Fanel from behind, the same as when he smugly disobeyed orders from the Strategos, but this time there was a soft tone to it, a gentleness that he had never had in his previous years. 

                "Your friends are here to see you." She poked her head inside the door, "You ought to bring your sword, they want to spar." When she smiled like that, Dilandau felt like he was the luckiest little boy in the world, to have a mom that he loved so much. The years hadn't taken much away from Celena, and her face was accented by the lovely long blond hair that she had allowed to grow out.  

                Dilandau grinned, "All right!" he said, grabbing his practice sword from his bedside, "Just what I needed today, a little exercise." he said, kissing his mother on the cheek before running noisily down the hallway and out the door.

                Celena smiled, brushing her fingertips across her cheek. She gently and tentatively stepped into her son's vacant room, and sat down on the bed. She stared at the room around her, admiring the design of it. The room was covered in rich, wine-colored drapery and silver weaponry covered the walls, which were painted a light cream. The very room seemed to be her son, the dressings on it made her feel as if it was her son  she was looking at, not his room.

                Her son, the boy, he had begun to become a man. There were times when she missed the boy that he had been, missed the gentle smiles, the shining wide eyes of his youth. The time since he had begun to remember what he had been like in his past had been hard. Each day was like a new trial, and there were days when Dilandau was moody, more like his old self. 

                This had sparked Celena's fear, and worry from all the people in the castle who knew Dilandau's secret. It had been Allen's idea to send them to the small home, just in case Dilandau fell ill, and became his old self. 'To fall ill' is what they called it, to make sure that there was little suspicion about their departure from the castle. Dilandau certainly seemed to be sickly to most. His pale color and the lean look about him had been a source of much discussion, and it was well known for albinos to fall ill from time to time, being so adverse to the light of the sun. 

                Celena tried not to, but she still worried about it. It was a constant tug in her stomach, something that she wished would go away, but knew would not. The only thing she worried about was the fact that Dilandau may not remember what had come to pass between them when he was just a voice occupying a corner of her mind. The Zaibach madoushi she had consulted, (none of whom were involved in the creation of Dilandau, for those had all been long imprisoned for what was called 'crimes against humanity.') told her that there was as yet no way to tell what would happen in the event that there were spiritual memories alongside the physical ones. They conjectured that one type may be unable to cross over into the new flesh, and would consequently be lost. And since Celena had long realized that Dilandau still carried the physical memories of his other self, she was very worried indeed. 

                Of course, she thought, recrossing her legs on the bed, there was the matter of that whispered 'Thank you' on the day she had first shown him the battlefield that would be the last of his physical memories. That gave her hope, but she was still unsure. The gods of chance had not dealt her a good hand, and what would reason would there be for them to change their minds now?

                She was most afraid of what may happen if Dilandau recovered all of his memories, even the ones from after his disappearance, but then decided to go back to the way he was. What if, without her influence there to keep him from changing back into that vicious person, he decided that the old way was best? Her breath came faster when she thought of that outcome, so she put it out of her head.

                But how long could she ignore these thoughts? Her heart could feel the day that Dilandau would finally remember everything, and her heart told her it was coming closer. He had become more and more belligerent towards everything and everyone that Dilandau, the old Dilandau, once hated, more enamored of everything that the old Dilandau liked, and more like the old Dilandau every day. He talked curtly to Van of Fanelia, he picked fights with Allen, he gathered a group of boys as his friends as soon as they arrived at their home, he played rough and never let himself lose. The most telling sign was his growing obsession with fire. He didn't burn anything that he wasn't supposed to, but he burned the things he was allowed to quite often. The room she sat in was scattered haphazardly with candles, the wall outside was always piled with firewood. 

                But… and Celena smiled at this… Dilandau had never been unkind to her. He was still gentle, excitable, energetic, polite, and overall the same boy as he had always been, when he was around her. What could happen, though, if the old Dilandau returned and blamed her, what if he felt her force him out of his own mind? 

                Celena shook her head, standing up. These thoughts were doing her no good. She left the room with a sigh and a frown, and the lingering hope that perhaps she wouldn't have to deal with all the questions that she had just presented to herself. 

                There was a commotion coming from the backyard, but that was normal. Dilandau had sought the boys in the neighborhood who were best at the sword to be his friends, knowing that he would easily beat an unskilled boy. As it was, his friends rarely even hit him. Dilandau liked it that way. They improved all the time, and it was because of him; and the best part, Dilandau thought, was that they liked it. Even though he beat them every single time they fought, they still came to his house and asked to do it all over again. 

                Today, it was Ravi, the boy with the cropped short brown hair, who was coming at him with such determination. Ravi had been well-known in the neighborhood as the boy who was the best with the sword, before Dilandau got there. They had become fast friends, of course, there was no anger on Ravi's part, just a friendly rivalry. Ravi was smart enough to see when someone could teach him something. 

                That was a problem among some of the boys around here, which was partly why Dilandau kept men who were so loyal to him close by his side. Some people wanted to get back at them, and he didn't like to take on a lot of guys at once. When he beat them, that just made them more mad. 

                In any case, there weren't so many people after him after he beat the gang led by Brish, a stupid boy who was beaten by Dilandau in mere seconds. Punks don't really like being sent to the hospital, so they were staying out of his way and… Oops! 

               Dilandau shook himself out of his reverie. Ravi was getting better, Dilandau had just barely missed taking a good hit in the shoulder. 

                "Ah ah ah…" Ravi said, "Why you gotta avoid my strike?" He shrugged, "You gotta give me a chance to hit you, Dilly-boy, you know how much I want to." he threw his shoulder forward with a lightning force, cleaving the air asunder with his bamboo sword.

                Dilandau dodged, but just barely. He had to start giving some offense! He leapt forward, knocking Ravi's shinai aside with his, brushing the scrub-brush hair that came off Ravi's forehead.

                "Not enough, Dilly-boy!" shouted Ravi, forcing Dilandau's sword back, "You should have got me, that time.."

                "You know how much I hate to spar in the sun…" Dilandau said with a grin, "I can't see as well in the sun." He crouched low, thrusting his sword-arm up. 

                "You a freak, Dilandau!" shouted Ravi with a grin, striking down on Dilandau's block with all of his force.

                Dilandau felt his sword-arm shuddering, weakening against the superior force. Ravi had always been stronger than him, though Dilandau was the better swordsman. For that reason, he had tried to keep their matches short, but this time… Dilandau wanted to see how good Ravi had become.  

                He sliced across with his sword, catching Ravi momentarily off guard, striking a glancing blow across the stomach. Dilandau grinned, "You give up?"

                "No way!" Ravi shouted, slashing down once again. 

                Dilandau countered with his own slash, pushing with all the power he could. He lifted his sword once more, and struck down on Ravi's, forcing him to block.

                But then… Ravi must have been learning, he usually didn't use strikes that needed a great deal of dexterity, but this time he slid swiftly out from under Dilandau's sword, and sliced up. 

                Dilandau felt a pain in his face, and then… He was someplace else.

                "How dare you!" he shouted, not knowing whether it was him or someone else.

                The boy before him, it was Shesta, dropped his practice sword, "I- I'm sorry, Lord Dilandau." his voice was afraid. He knew the blow was coming.

                Dilandau grinned from his crouch on the floor, and drew his body up, all of his upward and sideways momentum culminating in a slap across the other boy's face.

                Shesta was knocked back and off his feet by the force of the blow. 

                Dilandau's face twisted in a smirk, "Never, ever touch my face." he said. And then his grin faded, because the pain was growing. For a moment he saw Ravi, in the place of Shesta, his eyes filled with shock, and in a moment, fear. But then Dilandau crumpled down to the ground, screaming.

                "My face!" He shuddered uncontrollably, his eyes clouding. Blood, and that pain. It was nothing he had ever felt before, the awful rawness of his hair mingling with the blood on his wound. And an overpowering hatred of Van… 

                Outside his body, his friends saw his eyes cloud, saw him slap Ravi, saw him collapse to his knees, screaming, and then they saw him fall to the ground, twitching as if he was having a seizure.

                Ravi's shock at seeing this strange side to his pale friend melted away in the face of the fact that something may really be wrong with him. He looked to the group of boys who had been watching, and shouted, "Go get Dilandau's mom!" 

                They rushed off as if their lives depended on it.

                Ravi gathered Dilandau in his arms, supporting with no effort at all the thin body of the boy, and ran as fast as he could into the house.

                Dilandau was lying in his bed, but he didn't know that. Inside, he was reliving those last months of his life, though outside his body trembled violently. His eyes opened periodically, and they wheeled about in his head, as if he was fainting again and again and again. 

                Celena sat by his bedside, her eyes bright with tears.

                "He said some weird stuff, and then he just fell over and started twitching…" Ravi said, his face filled with worry.

                "What did he say?" Celena said, though she could have guessed.

                "He said not to touch his face. It was all about his face, really. And I think I heard him say 'Van', when I was carrying him in."

                Celena buried her face in her hands, "Oh, God…" she said, her voice muffled.

                "What's gonna happen?" Ravi asked.

                "I don't know…" Celena said, "You ought to go home, boys…" she said, directing her voice also to the group of boys who stood outside Dilandau's room, their faces the same as Ravi's. 

                "Yes'm…" they intoned, still worried. 

                "Go on.. I'll keep an eye on Dilandau…" she said.

                "Are you sure something's not really really wrong?" Ravi asked, "I could call a doctor."

                Celena shook her head, smiling a bit, "No, that's all right, nothing's wrong if you look.." she smiled down at Dilandau, who had calmed down for the moment, and was snoring softly, though his eyes still moved.

                She looked back at Ravi, "You see, he's just asleep. He's dreaming."

                Ravi looked doubtful, but grudgingly accepted, "F'you say so.. But them're some violent dreams he's having." he said.

                "He had a violent life." Celena said, smoothing Dilandau's sweaty hair away from his brow. 

                Ravi looked puzzled.

                "Maybe someday he'll tell you about it, if you ask." Celena said, turning her profile to Ravi, "You should go, I'll be here. Come back tomorrow morning." 

                Reluctantly, Ravi left, making a vow to come back as early as possible the next morning.

                As for Dilandau, his dreams were passing by him so quickly that only he could have understood the memories that were replacing themselves in his mind. He saw the moments leading up to the battle at Freid, the frenetic action of that battle, the aftermath, and then… Lightning flashed and the Dragon was there, flying from soldier to soldier, leaving nothing in his wake. All these boys that Dilandau had known since he was 'born', these soldiers that Dilandau had known in dreams since he was five, his friends two lives over. They were gone. That creature, a beast, a demon! And Dilandau was left…

                "Alone…" he muttered in his sleep. "All alone." with a shock, he sat up in bed, his eyes still clouded with the force of his regained memories. A fire blazed behind them. Dilandau smiled evilly, "Van…" he intoned, his voice like poison.

                Ravi woke early the next morning and rushed over to Dilandau's house. The sun had hardly begun to rise, so he was careful along the rocky paths. He came quietly into the house, no one in the village locked their doors. He rushed to Dilandau's room.

                Celena was asleep on the chair beside the bed, and Dilandau was gone. The window was open, letting in the first rays of the rising sun, and Dilandau was gone. One of the beautiful swords that Dilandau had so enjoyed collecting was missing from his wall, and Dilandau… was gone. 

                "Miss Celena, wake up!" shouted Ravi, shaking her.

                She woke, and her eyes went straight to the bed where her son lay when she fell asleep. Then she turned in shock to Ravi, "He's gone!" she whispered, and she fell into broken sobs. 

                "The neighboring village says that a construction Guymelef was stolen from their building site." said one of Dilandau's friends, short of breath, "But, Miss Celena, does Dilandau even know how to run a Melef?" he asked, looking curiously up at Celena.

                "No." Celena said distractedly, "But yes. Where did it go?"

                "I dunno…" he said, "They just noticed it was gone." 

                Celena shivered, "Van Fanel is in danger."

                "The king of Fanelia?" said Ravi, sorely confused, "What does that have to do with it?" He began to seriously worry about the sanity of Dilandau's mother. Maybe all this Dilandau being missing stuff was getting to her.

                There was a knock at the door, "You have some fast runners, Celena." Allen said, trying to make light of the situation, "I had to practically tie this one up. He thought he could get back here faster than the horses!" 

                "My son trained him." said Celena morosely. 

                Allen's face fell, "Any idea where he's gone?" he asked, serious this time.

                "He's gone to Fanelia." Celena said, knowing that Allen wouldn't doubt her. She knew that he had come to trust her bond with Dilandau over the years, come to rely on it to make sure to himself that Dilandau wasn't in danger, and subordinately, wasn't a danger to anyone else. 

                "Fanelia?" Allen said, shocked, "Van… We have to stop him!" he said, a tinge of panic in his voice, and for good reason. Van was his friend, and not only that, if Van was killed and the Asturian government found out that Dilandau had done it, the family would be blacklisted and Dilandau would be killed. 

                "Are the horses still in good shape?" asked Celena.

                Allen nodded, "We traded off not too far ago."

                "Let's go." Celena said, rising. But her legs faltered.

                Ravi caught her, holding her up, "I'm coming, too." he said, determinedly, "I wanna get to the bottom of this."

                Allen looked a question at Celena.

                Celena stood up by herself, and nodded resolutely.

                "All right." Allen said, running out the door to inform the coachmen.

                Celena stared for a moment at Ravi, "What if what you hear makes you hate my son? What if he's changed?" she asked him, distantly.

                "With all due respect ma'am, that's crap." Ravi said, "Dilandau's my best friend, and I don't care what he did, or what he is. And if he's changed… Well, we'll change him back. 'Zat good enough?" he asked, with a broad smile.

                Celena nodded, a smile peeking out from her tired face.

                "All right, then." Ravi said, "Let's go."

                The coach rumbled along the cobblestone streets, shaking the cab mercilessly. The shaking of the cab, however, could not be distinguished from the shaking of the people within, the nervousness that was contained inside the cab itself.

                "Do you know if any Melefs in Asturia are missing?" Celena asked Allen, looking down at her hands.

                "Well, no… I could check.." Allen said, "It was awfully early when your runner got to us." 

                Ravi looked bewildered, "Look, I don't understand why you're asking about Melefs, or why you think Dilandau's goin' to Fanelia." he looked thoughtful, "Although if you think Dil's goin' to Fanelia, he'd probably need a Melef to get there in a reasonable amount of time…" He looked at the other two, who were looking at him with serious faces.

                "Do you really want to hear the whole story?" Allen asked, surprised.

                Celena smiled wanly, "It's a way to pass the time, anyway.." she said to Allen, "He's Dilandau's friend." she finished matter-of-factly.

                Allen shrugged, "Well, all right." he said, "It's not my story."

                Celena turned to Ravi, "Well, when I was five…"

                Miles away, Dilandau was locked in the womb of a Melef, the beautiful one that Allen had been building. Yes… Allen… That man who he hated! Didn't he? No matter… Dilandau was flying over the green trees, flying to Fanelia, to see… To see… No. To kill…Van. Van. The very name made his blood boil, made his veins pop. The name made his eyes cloud over with the vision of his friends dissolving into quicksilver, their blood mixing with the hot metal. He could see their faces still, Shesta, Gatty, Dallet, Guimel, Ravi, Lyon, Chaiz… They were dead? They were. They must be. 

                All the people Dilandau had ever known or loved, dead… Gone. Van had killed them. And his mother? Where was his mother? No… No.. NO! The Melef paused for a moment in mid-air, whirling as if trying to throw off some cloaked assailant. But it passed. Dilandau forgot what he had been worried about, remembered only Van, killing Van… Yes. He set off once more for Fanelia, his eyes clouded once again by the memories he had regained.

                When they arrived at Palas, Ravi stepped off the coach, overwhelmed by the story he had just been told. He felt dizzy when thinking about the complications of the life that Dilandau had led. His grandmother had told him about the strength of the spirit, but he hadn't really believed her until he heard this story. He panicked a little when he thought about whether Dilandau's spirit would be strong enough to force him to kill King Van of Fanelia. 

                A harried and afraid-looking soldier ran up to Allen, sweating profusely, "Ah… Lord Allen?" he said, his face setting, as if he was coming to terms with his fate.

                "Yes?" Allen said, obviously worried by this soldier's distress.

                "The Shahriyar is m-missing…" The soldier said, bowing. 

                "Missing!?' Allen said, his face stricken, "Who took it!?" he shouted, fury radiating from his pores. The Shahriyar was to be his legacy, a melef to be handed down just as the Scheherazade was, with updated technology, most notable was the addition of flight capabilities, and some of the defensive protections of the Zaibach suits.

                "W-we don't know.. sir…" said the poor soldier.

                Allen knew there was only one person it could be.. He turned to stare at Celena.

                "It must have been him…" Celena said, her face set, "He was so interested in that suit." 

                "Dammit…" Allen mumbled under his breath, "Well, what can we do?"

                "We gotta chase after him." Ravi said determinedly.

                "But how will we be able to catch him?" Allen said, "That's the fastest suit we have!" 

                "What about the Crusade?" asked Celena.

                Allen obviously had a great attachment to the Crusade, it was evidenced in the pain in his eyes when he said, "I don't know if we should… She's old and she's slow…" 

                "S-sir?" said the soldier, blushing, "Permission to speak freely.."

                "Go on.." Allen said, observing military protocol.

                "I had been thinking, sir… Well sir, if you uh, cut out some of the unnecessary stuff, and maybe you could throw off some of that, ah, extra weight around the upper propellers and… um.. uh…" The soldier trailed off, looking down, "I-I always thought it was over-weighted, uh, s-sir…"

                Allen nodded thoughtfully, "Well, I suppose if we got rid of the cargo, and streamlined, we could get there in time." 

                The young man was still nervous, but a grin broke out on his face, "Um, G-Gaddess, sir?" the soldier said, beckoning behind him.

                Gaddess stepped out of the building, "Ah! Did he think it was a good idea?" the tall, dark man asked kindly.

                "Y-yes…" the soldier said, blushing once more.

                "I told you!" Gaddess said, "That's why I already did it. We can leave at once, if you want, sir." Gaddess said, bowing.

                Allen smiled with pride at the force of loyalty his soldiers had, even after he stopped being their commander. He put a hand on Gaddess' shoulder, "Thank you, friend." he said with a very graceful gratitude.

                Ravi thought of Dilandau for a short moment. He wondered if Dilandau would come back, if someday he and Dilandau'd be able to be old friends like Gaddess and Allen were. Things seemed to be looking dimmer and dimmer on those prospects. Ravi looked away, his face clouding.

                Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, "Don't look like that…" Celena said, "It's not over yet." 

                Ravi glanced at the lady, and suddenly felt more pity for her than he would let him feel for himself. Ravi would lose his best friend if Dilandau succeeded, yes, but she would lose her son. There had been such a strong bond between the two of them that Ravi had felt it, and he had only known the two of them for a couple of years. She was standing up to this a lot better than he was.

                He grinned weakly, "Yeah, sorry 'bout that." he said, ruffling back his hair, "Got to keep my chin up, right?" he said.

                Celena smiled faintly, and nodded.

                Allen turned, "Well," he said, "Let's go."

                At that same time, Van Fanel was making his customary monthly oratory to his people. The crowd below him shone with love for their leader. 

                Van himself stood tall, though he had certainly aged. There was an elegant touch of silver at his temples and in streaks through his hair, most likely due to years of stress in rebuilding his kingdom, and the border fights that sometimes broke out. He still wore his sword at his side, he was still a warrior king, though he had long since left the world of war behind. His eyes flashed kindly, and even the smallest of his people could hear the benevolence in his voice when he began his statement.

                "My country, I will be departing two days hence for a visit." the people knew their king well enough to know where he was going, of course. The Mystic Moon was still an unknown place to many, and it gave the country pride to know that their leader had ties upon it. 

                "You will be expected to obey my chancellor for that time, as usual." he said, gesturing to Merle, who walked out of the shadows with a demure bow.

                She had grown into a woman, very beautiful and very intelligent. It had taken some time for the country to agree that she made the best chancellor out of anyone Van could have picked, and there were still some people who disliked the idea of leaving a beast-person on the throne for any length of time, but Van was so well-loved by his people that most of his eccentricities were overlooked, if not celebrated.

                Van smiled, "I'm sure you'll be able to get along well without me." he said, grinning at the uproar of negation from the crowd below, "Come now!" he said, "I'm not so great!"

                The crowd seemed to be determined to convince him otherwise.

                He smiled, "In any case, aid deliveries are rescheduled to tomorrow, so that I'll be able to help out, and as well, council meetings will be changed to two weeks from today. In a moment, I'll come down to speak to the representatives to hear any complaints." He stepped back from the wall of the balcony, and shook out his muscles.

                "Oh Lord Van…" Merle said, "You know, I think you're getting too old for this…" She gave him an imploring look, wringing her fingers nervously.

                Van grinned, "I'll never be too old to do this, Merle." he said, "This is what it's all about." he cricked his neck one last time, and ran towards the balcony. At the last possible moment he leapt, spread his arms into a swan dive in the air, and let his wings fly, raining feathers on the crowd below him. 

                Merle watched as he soared over the crowd, fleetingly touching the hands of each person who held theirs up, and then landed deftly in the circle that the representatives had left him. His wings dissolved into clouds of feathers, and the wind carried them away into the sky.

                Merle caught one deftly in two claws, and studied it for a moment, listening to the roar of the crowd below. The cheers only seemed to grow louder each month. Merle smiled and let the feather go back into the wind, leaning down to watch the faraway Van listening to one of the representatives. 

                "Oh Van…" Merle said with a smile, "What would this country do without you?" she tilted her head in a manner reminiscent of her childish ways, and giggled. 

                "Oh Van…" panted Dilandau, "Van, Van, Van, Van, Van…" his eyes were blighted red and filled with confused tears, but he knew he was close to Fanelia. He could smell it burning in his mind, burning for a second time. His face twisted in a perverse mask of a smile, a face he hadn't made in as long as he could remember, and he laughed.

                "Va-an…" he sang, concentrating all of the fibers of his body, all of the tenuous cloud that his will had become, on Van's death, "I will destroy everything that you love, Van… I will kill everyone who loves you…" The macabre song that Dilandau had been composing on his journey was filled with lyrics such as this, and there were only a few hours left to go before this song reached its crescendo, one painted with the blood of the King of Fanelia.

                "There." said Allen, pointing out the window. He glanced at Ravi for a moment, "That was where I saw Dilandau for the very first time." 

                Ravi stared down at what looked to be a row of blackened teeth rising from a bed of ash. It was some sort of complex, which seemed to have been burned down at a time long past. He looked questioningly at Allen, and mouthed 'Did Dilandau do that?'

                Allen nodded grimly. 

                Waking from a lethargy that had lasted the entire trip so far, Celena looked out the window, "Oh…" she said, "Are we on that route?"

                "It was the fastest one I could think of, ma'am." Gaddess said apologetically, "The old noggin does throw you some curves when you're as old as me." 

                Celena smiled, "No, that's all right, Gaddess. If it's the fastest, I don't mind at all.." she said, but her eyes traveled to the ruins of the fortress. Her heart lurched at the idea of more destruction like that coming from her son. 

                In her mind, Dilandau stayed the same as he ever was, her kind, intelligent, daring little boy. It was a hope she knew was false. If Dilandau had remained the same Dilandau he had been for fifteen years thus far, she knew he would have left a note, or given her some idea where he was going besides this lingering feeling in her heart. But still she stubbornly believed that Dilandau was still her son, and perhaps that was the only thing keeping her together.

                Ravi stared at the wreckage of the huge building drifting lazily below him, and repressed a snake of fear that rose into his throat. If Dilandau could do something like that… Well, he didn't want to think about it, but still… What would the king of Fanelia look like when they got to him? He tried to repress the shudder that was climbing up his back, and turned away from the side window and toward Fanelia. 

                The sun was setting, and it sheathed the world in a red glow. Dilandau slunk out of the new Guymelef, letting the red cover him as well. He made his way through the forest paths and into the city. There were few people in the streets. Most were meeting with their representatives, discussing the ideas that King Van had had to solve the problems that they had posed. But Dilandau didn't know that, nor would he have cared if he had. 

                He was going over, in his head, all of the crimes that Van had perpetrated against him. The deaths of his closest friends, the Dragonslayers. The scar that Van had painted upon his face, Dilandau could still feel it throbbing. He ran his fingers across his cheek, and almost lost his balance. He leaned for a moment on the dirty wall of an alley. Was it gone? Could it have disappeared? 

                No. No, that couldn't be. He could still feel it, feel the indignity that it had been. The way that Van had idly sliced through his perfection, as if he didn't care, it left an icy brand on Dilandau's soul. And Van had… He had done other things as well, right? He threw everything that Dilandau didn't have in his face. Folken, that fool, loved Van. That terrible woman from Gaia, that cat-girl… Everyone loved Van. No one but the Dragonslayers had ever….

_                "I love you, Dilandau…"_ Dilandau shook his head. What was that voice? The voice laughed, _"Oh, Dilandau!"_ It shouted, _"You're so smart!"_

                Dilandau's head pounded, "What?" he muttered.

                _"You are Dilandau, my son…" _the voice said to him, and later, _"I won't ever give up on you."_

                He crouched to the ground, listening to the voice in his mind. This voice he called back from someplace deep inside himself. 

                _"The best person you can be is yourself, Dilandau." "In our past… We were…" "Dilandau, I'll always love you." "You're my son! Of course I love you…"_

                Abruptly, Dilandau stood, "NO!" he shouted, causing the birds that were nesting in the eaves near him to startle and leap into flight. "I don't have a mother! No one is left who loves me! It was HIS FAULT! HE took them all away from me!" he shouted these truths upon which he had built his existence into the skies, so loud that his lungs rasped, so loud that the blood vessels in his eyes burst. The people of the city shut their doors, ignoring his ranting aside from the fact that it was disturbing them.

                Dilandau leapt into a run, reaching the outer wall of Van's castle. He knew this place, and he knew that the guards would not let him in through the main entrance, looking as he did. Knowing this, though knowing not why he did, he dug his fingers into the still-rough stone of the relatively new castle. No barrier could keep him from killing Van, within him or without.

                Van's study was lit only by the blue-flame lamp he was writing by. The letter he wrote was almost a form letter by now, he had written it so many times, changing it little. Van quirked a smile, thinking about that. It could scarcely be called a form letter, since he sent it to the same person every time. 

                He muttered to himself as he wrote, "I'll be there in two days. Don't forget!" he grinned, "I want to eat something new again, something American this time. Like the brownies we had that one time. Merle says hi, but she can't come. She's got to run the country, we're trying it again." 

                Van chewed for a moment on the nib of his quill, thinking. He always knew what to say to Hitomi when she was with him, but he never knew what to write to her. 

                "Oh well," he said, "I'll just end it… 'That's about it.. Love Va-'" he stopped, hearing a clatter of steps on the balcony outside his room.

                His heart began to beat faster, and he warily grabbed his sword from beside the desk, "Is someone there?" he called, unsheathing it.

                "Van…" a familiar voice outside breathed heavily. A bloody fist broke one of the window's panels, opening the lock from inside with clumsy fingers.

                Van held back. He recognized that voice, though he couldn't remember where from at the moment, with his adrenaline pumping like it was. Aside from that, he could tell that this intruder was a young man, and Van didn't want to be so brash as to attack someone who may be in their prime.

                "Oh Va-an…" The voice said again, this time with a razor-edge of malice and hate that Van recognized, but knew he had not heard in more than twenty years.

                "Dilandau!" he gasped.

                Dilandau stepped into the room, sword unsheathed, smiling the twisted smile that had been his those years before he was really born. Blood dripped from the end of the sword, twisting down the blade from Dilandau's hands, which were scraped and marred.

                Van stepped into a defensive stance, knowing that the worst had finally happened.

                Dilandau looked at his fingertips and palms with mild pique, "Look what I did to my hands, Van, just for the right to come and see you…" his voice was quiet and soft, the peak of madness.

                "Why didn't you just come in the front door…" Van said, laughing nervously, "you know you don't have to scale a wall just to see me…"

                Dilandau shook his head dismissively, "The guards would never have let me in…" he muttered.

                Van stiffened his stance, "Why not?" he asked, effecting nonchalance.

                "Because, Van…" Dilandau said, delighting in the feeling that saying the name straight to the bearer's face gave him, "I came to KILL YOU!" with those last words, he lunged forward, bringing his sword down, nearly on Van's head.

                Van blocked, though painfully. The stiffness of age had given the edge to Dilandau already. Van pushed back Dilandau's blade with some effort, "Your mother wouldn't like this…" he grunted.

                "I HAVEN'T GOT A MOTHER!!" Dilandau screamed, throwing his sword down with twice the force this time, as if by defeating Van he could dispel the voices that were giving him such doubts. He pushed Van into the mild lamplight, and then… stopped. He took a step back.

                "You're so… old." Dilandau said, his voice sounding confused, young.

                "I've always been this old, Dilandau, you know that…" Van said warily.

                "No… But.. The last time I saw you…" Dilandau said, pointing a shaking and bloody finger at Van. 

                "The last time you saw me…" Van said, his voice honey now, as if he was coaxing a child, "It was three months ago, we sparred in the courtyard." he grinned, "You won three rounds, and I won four." 

                "No…" Dilandau looked down, "That's not how it is!" He brought his sword across with such force that it almost jarred Van's old sword from his grasp. 

                "I'LL NEVER GIVE THIS UP, VAN!" Dilandau said, "NOT UNTIL YOU ARE DEAD!" The volley of strikes loosed from Dilandau's hand was lightning quick. 

               Van managed to block them all, only suffering flecks of blood and the foam that was spraying from Dilandau's mouth with his manic, animal pants.

                "You killed everyone who ever cared about me, Van. I won't let you go until you pay." he smiled again, that bitter smile, "I'll hurt you, but I won't kill you…" He thrust through Van's blocks, so swiftly that Van couldn't see, then danced around Van and grabbed him roughly by the hair. 

                Slipping his cold blade against Van's neck, he brought his face close to Van's, buried his sweat-soaked face in Van's hair, "First, I'll kill that cat-girl, yeah… Then I'll make you watch while I burn Fanelia to the ground… again." 

                Van didn't struggle. He was no longer young and brash. He knew that if he killed Dilandau, he wouldn't be able to live with himself any more. Dilandau was a bright young boy, one of the best swordsmen he had ever fought, he was smart, sure, quick. Allen and Celena were two of his very good friends. 

                "Then I'll go to that Mystic Moon and kill that girl. Somehow I'll do it, Van, and you'll watch." He brought the blade closer to Van's skin, baring his teeth, "You'll see the whole thing."

                But if Van didn't stop this, someone could get hurt. Van made a careful mental picture of Dilandau's location, and prepared a strike. 

                "I'll kill all your friends, everyone who loves you, and then I'll kill you, Van. You'll die." Dilandau realized that his words were having little effect on the subdued king, "Are you listening to me, I said-!" There was a brush of wind and a slipping feeling against Dilandau's face. Forgetting for a moment about his quarry, he put a hand to his face. He felt blood flowing against his fingers, pulsating from his once scarred cheek. 

                Dilandau let his hold on Van fall away, his sword clatter to the ground. Van whirled to see Dilandau's face shaking like it had so many years ago, his eyes wide with a strange sort of terror. He collapsed to his knees.

                "Again!" he muttered distantly, and then as if he no longer cared, he fell over on his side, eyes wide but no longer seeing. They closed, and he began to twitch convulsively. 

                Van wiped the sweat from his face and looked despairingly down at the boy's prone form. He fell desolately to his knees.

                There were so many stairs! Celena tried to ignore the stairs, to fly up them as she knew her son would have, but she wasn't young, and she wasn't fast enough. She reached the top and threw open the door, her heart jumping wildly. 

                She saw Van, sitting in a bedside chair, watching over her son, who was lying atop Van's bed, trembling. His hands and his face had been bandaged.

                Van stood, "Oh, god, Celena…" He said, not questioning her presence there, "He just appeared. I didn't even hardly touch him and he fell. It was just like…" he smiled, despite the sobbing panic in his eyes, "twenty-five years ago…" 

                Celena's hand flew to her mouth, "He's… He's gone like that again…" she fell to her knees, tears flowing. Maybe this time he'd never come out of it… Maybe he'd come back again as that broken Dilandau, dead inside…

                Van nodded, taking a breath that was more like a sob, "He's been like this for an hour. The doctor said that there was nothing wrong, that he was just dreaming." he turned haunted eyes to Celena, silently imploring her to tell him that that was it, there was nothing else wrong.

                Celena shook her head, "I don't know what's going to happen…" she sobbed

                Allen, Ravi, and Gaddess arrived at the top of the stairs. The shadowy form of Celena, crying deeply in the doorway was enough to make their worried looks turn into anguished ones. 

                Ravi kneeled next to Celena for a moment, placing a hand on her shoulder, and then saw Dilandau's form in the bed. He slid deftly past Celena and walked to the bedside.

                "So…" he said, "We're back to this again." He put a hand on Dilandau's chest, "Don't let it all go to waste, buddy…" he whispered urgently.

                Suddenly, Dilandau's form quieted. He opened his eyes and stared for a moment at Ravi. 

                Ravi jerked his hand back in surprise, "Dil?" he said warily. 

                The company of the room looked up at the boys in shock. No one moved for fear of disturbing something within Dilandau, perhaps setting him off once again.

                The pale boy said nothing, merely slid his legs to the side of the bed, and waited a moment for Ravi to move out of the way. He walked with graceful steps to the woman crouched in the doorway, and looked down at her.

                All eyes were on Dilandau, waiting for him to make a move.

                He kneeled and looked her straight in the eyes. The silence in the room was deafening, the room filled with petrified statues. 

                And Dilandau, he turned deep red eyes to his mother, and slipped a finger gingerly along the bandage on his right cheek, "Looks like I've got a scar on the outside again." he said thoughtfully, making an introspective face.

                Celena nodded warily.

                He smiled warmly at the woman before him, trying to fight back the tears that welled up in his eyes, "But you've  healed all the scars inside, my beloved mother." 

                The uncontrollable tears of joy that burst forth from Celena were the signal that everyone was waiting for. The room relaxed into smiles and tears. 

                Dilandau held his mother in a tight embrace, smiling, though he was crying at the same time, "It was so hard, mother… And for a moment, I thought I had to live forever, frozen at that terrible moment when my only friends died. But last time, you came to give me a rest, and eventually to rescue me." He took her at arm's length and looked into her eyes, "Thank you so much for giving me this second chance…" he said, and those words came from every part of his mind, every piece of his once-fragmented soul. 

                His mother's tears had not ceased, and though she was usually good for words of wisdom at times like this, she was so overcome with happiness, that all she could do was sob loudly, and hug her son to her once more. 

                This silent embrace was not the only form of celebration in the room. Allen and Gaddess were grinning broadly and staring at Dilandau and Celena with pride, Van was smiling so widely that it seemed as if his face hurt. 

                Ravi was a little less composed, he was excitedly jumping around the room, "Yeah!" he shouted, "All right, Dilly-boy!" he jumped about a few more times for good measure. 

                Dilandau rose from the arms of his mother, helping her up to stand, sobbing, next to her brother. Then he turned and walked over to his friend, who abruptly halted his exultations.

                Dilandau looked with admiration at him, "You came all this way to get me?" he asked.

                "Yeah! Jeez, you don't think I'm gonna just let you go?" Ravi looked indignant.

                Dilandau shook his head, "You idiot…" he said, walking away.

                Ravi blinked, "Hey!" 

                Dilandau ignored the outburst, putting an arm around his mother and walking out of the room. Ravi watched as the king of Fanelia followed them. 

                "Hey! You!" he ran after them, "You just jealous because I finally beat you!!" Ravi said, irked.

                Dilandau turned, "Oh, yeah?" he said, "Well, I'll just take you right now, and we'll see who wins!" 

                Celena grabbed her son's elbow, "No you won't! Look at you! You need to get some rest." 

                And of course, Dilandau was a sight, abrasions all over his arms, palms, legs, and chest, and that terrible slash on his face. Of course, they had all been bandaged, which made him look even more frightful, like some half-finished mummy of some sort. He looked down at his limbs sheepishly, "Hmph.." he muttered, "I'm never doing that again."

                Celena's eyes softened, "I certainly hope not, you had me worried to death." she looked at Van, "Dilandau and I can sleep in the guest room, right?" she asked.

                "Sure." Van said with a sappy smile on his face. 

                "All right, then. Off to bed." Celena said, walking her son into the room. She shut the door, and smiled, tears threatening once more. Without warning, she held her son for a long moment in a warm embrace.

                "I love you, my wonderful, wonderful son…" she whispered. 

                "I love you too." Dilandau said.

                Celena settled into one of the double beds, almost unable to contain her joy. Her son was once again the boy she raised with devotion, once again the young man who spoke in her thoughts for ten years or so. The fact that they were once again one and the same, and that he would stay her son that she loved with all her heart lifted such a burden off of her that she fell to sleep almost immediately.

                Smiling at the form of his already-sleeping mother, Dilandau collapsed into his bed. He sighed with the utmost content. For the first time in his life, everything was clear. Inside him, his memories merged, and he finally felt whole. Unsurprisingly, all of the thoughts and memories that were finally back in place in his head were pointing him in one direction. He told himself to leave the past behind him, and look to his future. He smiled contentedly as he fell asleep, looking like a little boy again. Yes, tomorrow would be all right.

Author's note!!: (DON'T JUST SKIP OVER IT!!) So, I told you it would be a happy ending, but I hope somewhere in there you doubted it, at least a little bit. Except for all you Van-haters out there, I'm sure you were rooting ol' crazy Dilandau on… I hope it wasn't too cheesy… I thought a lot about this ending… (Even the technical leanings of this story as an example of the Epic Mono-myth… It's Senior English that's doin it to me…) 

                Anyhow, I hope everyone understood my little thing… Since the whole first chapter was based on dreams, I decided that the best way for Dilandau to regain his memories would be for him to relive it through his dreams. Unfortunately for the people who love him, Dilandau woke up just after the whole 'Van kills the Dragonslayers' escapade, and decided to take out his revenge on the winged king… 

                I changed all the chapter names, cuz the old ones were too unwieldy, and I concentrated on these aspects in each chapter, so I thought it'd be a good idea for a title anyhow. 

                I still didn't feel like writing about Dilandau's sperm-donor father this time, so he stinks anyhow… I was sort of thinking that I should've had Celena marry Gaddess, but that's kinda gross since he's ten years older than her. I did, however, decide to write a 'Dilandau's friend' OC in there, that's Ravi. How did you like him? I wanted to give him a little bit of a tough guy persona, I wrote him a little dialect to speak in… (Which I based a little bit on the slang from Ender's game.. Teehee…) 

                In other literary allusions, the name for the Shahriyar (invented throwaway melef for Dilandau to steal) was also from a story not written by me! The Scheherazade was named after the queen from 1001 nights, so I named Allen's legacy after Scheherazade's husband, the king… (He was pretty evil, killin' all his wives and all so… I think he fits Dilandau at that time pretty good, Mmm hm!) 

                For those of you who may be wondering, Dilandau will have a scar again. I felt he was not Dilandau enough without it.. I suppose it's like a physical manifestation of the return of his memories. Also a physical manifestation of the fact that he was, um, wounded in the face… Shrug..

                Again, thanks to all my reviewers, for thinking I'm cooler than I really am! I hope that this last chapter answered all of your questions, and if I forgot something, I'm sorry!! (I think I promised someone some Dragonslayers flashbacks, and I'm not sure there were enough!!) 

                If I get a good enough idea, I may even write something else in this same vein. Maybe a little bit of a story about Dilandau as a kid… (he was so cute back then, that was my favorite part to write!!) Give me some ideas if you want to see some more!!

                As always, review me because I am so pitiful!! I need your reviews to feel good about myself! I'm so sad, indulge me!!


End file.
